Dear Charlie
by keepcalmandcarryon20
Summary: "Dear Charlie... I can't help but think that something changed... something... bigger than myself... that day of the crash." The life of Quinn Fabray told through journal entries.
1. April 13, 2017

A/N: Hey hi how ya doing please don't kill me xD Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it's been a while since I've uploaded – and, to all of those who have read my other stories, I _am _going to finish TSWP… I have just had this story stuck in my head for SO LONG now… I had to write it xD Anyway… I hope you all enjoy :333

Disclaimer: Siiiiiigh, tis not mine.

**April 13, 2017**

Dear Charlie,

My world is upside down. Day becomes night, and night becomes day. My dreams haunt me as I pound the sidewalk. Reds, yellows, and oranges explode in my head. She haunts my dreams and twists my heart. Her laugh rattles in my head and my legs quake in anguish. She has her hands wrapped around my sole existence, twisting and crushing it, even though she is gone. I am a ghost of my old self, a shell that seems like it shall never be filled again. I wake up every morning from a fitful sleep with tears dried on my face.

Yet I allow myself to do these things.

I allow myself to think about her.

I allow myself to still feel for her.

I allow myself to still _love _her.

"Here's where I stand," I shouted. "This is my soul. Look at it. Study it. Do whatever you wish to it."

And the world responded.

The galaxies seemed to turn to dust and sprinkle over the two of us. Our love was too much for the universe to handle. It was pure, and it was right.

But then I fucked up. I fucked up bad.

My demons rattle in my head, shouting to be heard. "Listen to us! We are here! We are your fears, your nightmares, and your worries! We are here to ruin you! We _are _you! Pay attention to us!"

I can't make them stop.

It's because I won't let _her _stop.

She's still here, though she is gone. Her smile blinds me and keeps me up at night. Her lips touch mine making me crave the taste of her. Her laugh clutches my heart and twists and crushes with each soft melody. Her love fills my soul and makes it warm. It promises happiness, joy, merriment, and love.

But then it's gone the very next moment, leaving a cold, empty space.

She is me. And with her gone, so am I.

She causes me so much pain, I hate her.

I hate what she's made me.

I hate what she made me feel.

I hate the promises she made me make.

I hate how she made me break them.

I hate how I hate her.

I hate how I hurt her.

I hate how I lost her.

I hate…

I'm so tired of hate. I'm tired of emotions. Christ, I don't want to be like this anymore.

But there's no hope, Charlie. Can't you see? I fucked this up. It's entirely _my _fault.

I just don't know what to do.

Sam thinks I need to move on. Santana agrees. But… I can't. I just… can't. I would like to – no one enjoys being in pain. But I just can't. I think Brittany understands.

I like to think that… She… Still feels the same way about me. She has to. What we had was one in a million. It was what poets strive to put into words; what painters slave over canvases to convey in a spectrum of colors; what singer and song writers search all over the world for – through every notch in the pavement to every mark in the sky. We danced on the moon as the galaxies cried over us, sprinkling us with that damn star dust. We had _it. _We… _had… _it…

Kurt came in to work the other day. Initially, he looked pissed at me, which is completely understandable. _I'd _be pissed at myself. Well… I am. Either way, he pities me now. I hate it. I don't want his pity. He should stay pissed at me. All I receive now is pity. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth when I think that people feel sorry for _me _when _I _was the one who caused this.

Anyway, after commenting on how I look—"one of those hideous zombie things you and Sam enjoy watching"—he told me the real reason why he showed up unannounced (after I rolled my eyes and yelled at him. I should apologize for that… It's not Kurt's fault after all… But he should know not to mess with me when I'm moody).

Her party is in a week this Saturday. He said I need to have everything to be fixed by then, or else I'm going to regret it. I was going to remark with a snarky comment about how I could easily take him, but he stormed out in true diva fashion.

But thinking back on the encounter, I'm pretty sure the whole 'regret it' thing wasn't about him rearranging my looks.

I have twelve days to fix this.

Twelve.

Days.

I carry around a storm on my shoulders, but I have to fix this.

I need to.

But where the hell do I start? There is too much pain to try to soothe all at once. Too many things left unsaid. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like to believe that I am an intellectual being—one with passion and wit. I can fix a leaky sink and replace a flat tire. I can intimidate others with a raise of a brow and open my own gallery. I can conquer the world and be whoever I want. But this is out of my realm.

I guess I should start by… Getting a drink. Or two. Yeah. It sounds like a plan, Stan.

I'll get to the hard stuff tomorrow.

But tonight, I drown my demons.

Yours eternally screwed,

QF


	2. Entry 1

**A/N: Hello! I do hope you all enjoyed the first chapter… I know it was a little vague… But that was kinda the whole point… And I know the whole journal-form for a story is a bit… new(?) but please just bare with me here… I really feel amazing about this story so I just ask you to give it a chance. And I **_**really **_**don't want to be **_**that **_**guy… but could you all just take about 10 seconds out of your day (and I'm already SO frickin grateful you all are even reading this to begin with), but could you perhaps leave a review or a pm? It's hard to know if you guys are taking well to the story if no one gives me any feedback xD And if it sucks, I'll just keep the story to myself and my Word… But if just one of you enjoys it, I'll keep posting! I just need to hear from you all first xD So, um, yeah, I really hope you enjoy this next chapter! Back to the beginning and longer chapters! xD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Glee **_**or any of its characters, plot, ect.**

April 18, 2011.

It's been four days. And I've been pretty much unresponsive. The doctors gave me this journal as a way of 'relieving stress.' When I asked them what I should write about, they said to write about anything. Maybe the crash and how it's affecting me. I guess I can try that.

Well…

Like I said…

It's been four days…

I've been in the hospital since. I have a broken wrist (sadly my left so I can still write), some stitches on my forehead, and lots of cuts and bruises. They released me two days ago. It doesn't mean I went home though. Mom tried to get me to go home. I told her I won't. I can't. I think she thinks I'm feeling guilty and can't leave. Oh, mother…

I only leave Rachel's room to get something to eat and go to the bathroom. Other than that, I just sit on this chair with the plastic sticking to my thighs a deep ache in my back. At night, it extends to a stiff bed. In the morning, I'm back to sitting. My finger tips alternate between grazing her lush brown hair to clutching her motionless hand. Her skin is cut and bruised. It's a spectrum of different colors: blues, yellows, reds, blacks, greens, and purples. The black stitches look wrong on her. I would like to be able to say she looks peaceful… But I'd be lying.

There's a tube down her throat _breathing _for her. Christ… She can't even _breathe _by herself. Nor can she eat or even go to the bathroom. She can't… She can't even open her damn beautiful eyes.

Not once did I ever think that I'd miss her rants. But here I am, desperate for a murmur. Anything. Apart from the TV in the background, the steady _beep_, and the occasional visitor, my world is silent. All I can do is sit, hold Rachel's hand, and pray that this will be the day she wakes up.

I don't even really remember what exactly happened…

All I can recall is Rachel and I coming home from the movies. I remember the weather was _really _bad. I think the guy on the radio said it was the worst storm Lima has seen in eight years. We were stopped at a red light, and we were talking about… about… something… I can't remember exactly what… and then… nothing.

I woke up in the hospital a couple hours later, head pounding, body aching like it got run over by a Mack truck, and my mom next to me blubbering like a baby. There was also this constant beeping sound that annoyed the crap out of me.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

After calming down and quitting kissing me all over, my mom told me how a car came speeding through the light and was out of control due to the weather.

_Beep._

She also told me how it mainly hit my… passenger side.

_Beep._

How it mainly hit Rachel.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep…Beep…Beep…_

She kept talking about how she was so lucky and blessed that I wasn't hurt beyond repair.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

I didn't hear any of it.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

All I kept thinking were her words.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"_Oh Quinnie, that stupid, irresponsible wretch of woman came speeding through the light. She was talking on the damn – excuse me – dang phone! And in that type of weather! How dangerous! She could have killed you! But thank the Lord she didn't hit your side."_

I had then asked her where she hit my car.

I don't think I've ever seen someone get that pale that fast before. She stopped her rambling that she does when she's flustered, took my hand, and looked me straight in the eyes.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"_Quinn. Listen to your mother. Now you know that a car hit you and Rachel on your way home from your day at the mall."_ I felt guilt here. I don't enjoy lying to my mom… But come on… Just think of the situation I'm in. _"The car came from the right of where your car was stationed. The driver tried to swerve, but she couldn't in time… She hit directly into Rachel."_

_Beep. Beep. Beep…._

_Beepbeepbeepbeep._

I knew it wasn't good. I knew Rachel couldn't be in good shape.

I don't know what it was, but I just knew.

Mom told me she was hit directly, and, because of that, she sustained major injuries.

She was put into a coma.

And it's been four days, and she hasn't woken up yet.

And I'm so scared.

And I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't wake up.

She has to wake up.

She _has _to.

I just…

It's about 4:30 in the morning right now. You wouldn't know because it always look like it's noon here in the hospital. But I couldn't sleep, so I thought I would write. I don't know how I feel about this whole thing yet. I just need Rachel to wake up.

I think I hear one of the nurses coming, so, um, bye.

…

I don't even know why I just said bye to an inanimate object.


End file.
